


For the Sake of Chat Blanc

by ClaireKat



Category: Miraculous Ladybug, Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, One Shot, Thoughts of Suicide, blood tw, death tw, like super major angst, thoughts of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 12:42:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5666479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaireKat/pseuds/ClaireKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everywhere his tears and her blood hit, Chat Blanc's suit turned from white to black."</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Sake of Chat Blanc

**Author's Note:**

> *Major Warning for anyone who struggles with self harm, self mutilation, thoughts of suicide, etc. I would approach this piece with caution.*
> 
> I rated it mature and gave it archive warnings because I'm of the opinion that it might be too heavy for some people. If you really think reading about something like someone wanting to shove a knife through their chest is going to cause you to want to do the same or similar things, please for the love of everything don't read this, it's not worth it.
> 
> Aside from that, finally getting back into my writing! This is a prompt fill from my writing blog, and although it is what I would consider a dark and psychologically heavy piece, I hope that some people are still able to enjoy it! Thank you for reading!

His vision was fuzzy, but that was to be expected. Tears were pouring from his eyes, streaking his face and blurring out all facets of his vision. There was nothing he could do to stop it. The object of his despair was hanging limply in his arms, every drop of her blood that colored his suit reverting its color from unfeeling, unyielding white to dense, emotive black. He still couldn’t believe that he had been fooled so deeply, had been transformed and used as a tool from the beginning. All it had taken was one akuma attack, one instant of assimilation, and the last few months had disappeared in a haze of duty and consistency. He carried out the orders he was given without asking whether they were right or wrong, or what the consequences might be...because for the time being, such complex avenues of thought were completely barred from him.

Why had she been so reckless, so careless; how could she have been so naive? Surely his life, his consciousness, wasn’t worth the incredible sacrifice that she had gone through the trouble of carrying out. The Ladybug that this Chat Blanc knew had never been so brash in the past. As his memories came trickling back to the forefront of his mind, the channel leading to the dusty storage cellar of his mind restored by her impudent action, this proof only grew. On the contrary, one of Ladybug’s defining traits was her straightforward nature, her ability to cut directly through to the heart of a problem and destroy the seed from which destruction bloomed. 

In a way, he knew that it could be said that she had done that, even in this case. She hadn’t let anything divert her course, the course that she had devised and set off on to ensure he was restored to the Chat Noir that she had once known and, perhaps, even started to love. But what good was saving him if she wasn’t even going to be able to greet him as he returned to the life he had left her behind in? She was his reason, his drive, his incentive to return; and yet she had opted to go out in a blaze of glory, to rip him from the foggy wasteland he had been imprisoned in only to greet him with clear, sharp, unavoidable pain.  

His tears mixed with her blood, and her blood soaked into his suit, dying the rest of her black spots red while the darkness tainted his suit and his soul. He was no longer the cold, calculating, nefarious Chat Blanc that had taken pleasure in ripping Paris apart with his sharp, merciless claws. No, Chat Noir was coming back into his own, and he was terrified and alone and full of self loathing and distress and despair. What was the point of being saved if he couldn’t even celebrate his savior? What kind of cruel world had he re-awoken to, a world that permitted him to open his eyes and greet the dead weight of the woman he had loved so dearly resting limp in his arms?

Raindrops began to fall from the sky, but their impact was silent to Chat Noir as his mind buzzed with a familiar white noise, a white noise that was different from the fog that he had been encased in for the past few months. How she must have struggled without him, struggled against him; Chat new he could be a burden even when he was working with her, but working against her, having his body and his mind manipulated like a puppet by the man that he and Ladybug had been attempting to reign in all this time...her strength and her struggle were almost incomprehensible. The word “evil” didn’t even being to describe the way that Chat now classified Hawk Moth as he tried to clear his vision and gaze upon Ladybug with untainted vision. 

She had fought so hard, tried so valiantly to pull him back from the brink of destruction; in the end, she had succeeded, but Chat was loathe to ever label such a precious, noble sacrifice as a completion of anything desirable. His life would never be more than hers, and he wished that he could have made her understand how much more he would have accepted his own death at her hands rather than being charged with picking up her pieces with his whole hands. He could only imagine the pain she had suffered fighting against him, failing again against the one person that she had always worked with rather than against. 

In the midst of the rain, the pain, the enmity that he felt swirling around in the empty cavity of his soul, Chat wondered if his heart could still be truly ripped from his chest. Nothing would have brought him closer to something like joy or peace than being able to send it rolling down the street scattering his broken emotions behind it like a trail of despondent memories; although he was more than aware that he would never be able to actually experience such emotions again. He had lost everything without even being present for it, and the world that he was revisiting now wasn’t worth trying to move forward through. This fog, this gloom was thick, so thick that he knew he didn’t have the strength to push through it.

He wasn’t even sure what his next move should be. He could be tragic, poetic, all of that worthless garbage if he shoved a dagger through his heart and collapsed atop her, his blood mingling with hers as the liquid continued to dye both of their suits in the last vestiges of the warmth that had been the evidence of their lives. He didn’t deserve to suffer so light a sentence, though; he had made Ladybug suffer so much longer, so much deeper, so much harder that she had broken herself to bring him back. She had toiled for so long and it was clear she had come to the same conclusion as him. No doubt she had reached it as she stared into his familiar green eyes, eyes that refused to meet her own, that only burned her with a fierce cold that pierced her heart like a shining blade. Their light, their flirtatious edge, not even a glint of recognition flashed in them again to communicate to her that there was any hope left, that her endeavors would have some sort of satisfactory pay off. 

No, Ladybug had suffered enough. She deserved the long overdue rest she was taking now, the rest that Chat Noir forced himself to respect as he stood against the raindrops that bore down on his shoulders. He was no longer sure whether it was tears or raindrops that wet his face, and the monochrome image of his world was only broken by the dull red of Ladybug’s suit mixed with her drying blood. Her suit slowly reverted back to the tattered clothes she wore as a civilian as her kwami lost the ability to maintain her form any longer, the burden of being fused with an empty shell forcing her back into her natural state. 

Chat Noir was surprised that he was still standing. He couldn’t believe that he was still walking, that he hadn’t collapsed to the ground in a fit of sobs and retching and self mutilation at the sight of the woman that he held in his arms now. It was still Ladybug; she had always been Ladybug. But at this time, Chat Noir understood just how much light he had removed from the world, just how many lives he had really stolen. His life, his nine lives, however many lives he actually had bore no worth in comparison to the woman that he carried back to her humble home now. 

He knew he would never be able to forgive himself. He knew he would never be able to rest or find happiness again, not after shattering the barriers that traditionally marked the limits for the depths of suffering. But he wouldn’t let her sacrifice be in vain, not yet. First, he had a job to do. He had an evil to destroy. His final act of contrition, and he would carry on with the torturous weight of his sins pushing him unrelentingly forward. For the woman who had given her life for him, the woman that had seen more in him than he knew was really there, for the light of his life that had really been a dual light all along...for Marinetta Cheng.


End file.
